


Keep It Together

by PumpkinWrites



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Domestic, Downplayed Relationship Problems, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinWrites/pseuds/PumpkinWrites
Summary: The best way to cope with intrusive thoughts? Why, it's to allow them, and your equally-damaged partner, to run your life, of course. Why would you ever think any differently?





	1. Chapter 1

_6:32am_

It's early. He knows its early because there's only enough light coming in the window to see pretty clearly. Or maybe his eyes have finally adjusted to the darkness. He's been awake for awhile now, and he isn't sure. Maybe he should--

_(don't look at the clock)_

He only woke up once last night to go check the apartment. He didn't need to check the outlets at all, just the doors, windows, and stove. He's doing better than he has in a long time. He should be proud of himself. But all he can think of is that he still needs to check.

Something moves behind him, shifting on the other side of the bed. The sheets rustle as the body beside him turns over, and his own body tenses in panic. He knows who that is: if he turns over his shoulder and looks, he'll see the same narrow, pointed face that he sees every morning. He knows that. He would know if it was someone else. But he has to make sure. What if this morning it's different? What if this morning, there's no one there, and he's finally snapped completely? Thankfully, that's not the case this morning. His partner is still there, sleeping like a rock.

Good.

He shifts and sits up, letting his feet touch the cold floor. He stays still for a moment, before climbing to his feet and looking toward the bathroom door. He can shower and shave first. Have some hot water for once. That'd be nice. He's always awake first, but he rarely thinks of that before the bathroom is occupied.

Several steps and he's at the bathroom door, pausing as he always does at the darkness that lurks beyond it. The light they keep plugged in over the counter has gone out.

_(or it's been turned off)_

No, it's just gone out. It's always on, and light bulbs burn out. It happened in the kitchen yesterday. His partner didn't shut it off, and there's no one in the apartment; no one breaks into an apartment just to turn off lights. There'd be things missing, or one of them would have heard something.

He reaches in and feels around for the light switch, turning on the light before opening the door. He looks behind it out of habit before closing it over and heading for the shower. He turns the knob, lets the water run and heat up. As it warms, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stares, transfixed, at the light scar tissue between his eyes. He hates that scar. He hates it with a passion, and every fiber of his being wants to reach up and pull the skin away, just to see if it grows back the same way.

( _skin doesn't work like that stupid)_

When he finally steps into the spray, the water is actually too hot against his skin, but he doesn't care. It's nicer than the arctic showers he normally has to take when his

_(partner partner partner)_

when Isaac gets to the shower first. Isaac takes showers like he's never had hot water before in his life. Sometimes he gets the thought in his head that Isaac's actually drowned in the shower, but it usually will turn out that he sat down on the floor of it and fell asleep, or that he just spaced out, or that he decided to shave literally everything. It annoys Isaac to no end that he has to check on him when he takes so long, but at least he doesn't lock the bathroom door anymore.

The other man's toiletries are strewn everywhere in the shower. Shampoo and conditioner on different shelves, his washcloth balled up and jammed into the farthest corner of its shelf, several different bottles of soap crammed together, some empty, some not. In sharp contrast, his own live in a hanging plastic caddy, hung over the shower curtain rod, easily condensed and not making the biggest mess possible.

He showers quickly, forgoing conditioner today in order to cut his time down and avoid using up all of the hot water. He tries very hard not to think about there possibly being someone in the apartment, and he almost succeeds in not letting it scare him. He shuts off the water before stepping out of the shower and toweling off enough so as not to drip on the floor between the bath mat and the sink. He hates

_(isaac hates)_

getting water everywhere.

He wipes the condensation off the mirror. He doesn't want to look at his own reflection again, but he does it anyway. He needs to, so he can try and make himself look vaguely human. It takes him only a few minutes to shave and brush his teeth, and another minute or so to clean up the sink. Finally, he quickly redresses and pulls his hair out of the way into its usual ponytail before he exits the bathroom.

He checks the bed on his way by. Isaac is still asleep, but he's squirmed over and flopped onto his back in the middle of the bed, taking up as much space as his small body possibly can.

_(cute he's cute he's so cute)_

He has to check the apartment when he exits the bedroom. He’s still too afraid that there’s someone in there with them. He checks literally everywhere that could hide a human being, even a few that can’t, and even when he’s found no one, he’s still not sure that they’re alone. But there’s nowhere left to look, so he just decides to try to worry about feeding them this morning.

Breakfast is simple this morning. Just breakfast bowls full of diced potatoes, crumbled bacon, mixed together with scrambled eggs and topped with cheese. Easy. He actually feels up to cooking, but they're in need of some groceries. He'll have to go later, they've just finished a job, they have money. Even after paying their rent and other bills.

He puts everything on the counter just as the other inhabitant of the apartment slouches into the kitchen. Isaac doesn't respond to his greeting, just sits down on one of the stools and starts eating, not even waiting for his coffee. Placing down the mug earns the quieter man a grunt of acknowledgement, which he answers with a nod before sitting down beside his partner and starting to eat his own breakfast.

Finally, Isaac speaks. "Your nightlight blew."

"I know."

"Your turn to fix it."

"I know."

He doesn't know if it's actually "his turn." They don't always take turns with that kind of thing. Little things like minor inconveniences that come up, not standard chores like dishes and the garbage and laundry, they trade off very well on those. He washes dishes and clothing, Isaac puts them away because he has a system for them.

His... Siris calls it his "fuck-it" attitude doesn't apply to things like how the laundry and dishes are put away. He's allowed to organize the pantry anyway he likes as long as Isaac's single shelf stays untouched, and the fridge as long as the milk, eggs, and butter are near the front. The freezer is rearranged almost daily if Isaac gets bored of looking at it.

"You going grocery shopping later?"

"Yes. Do you need anything?"

"I don't fuckin' know. Lemme eat. I'll tell you if I think of anything."


	2. Chapter 2

_12:21pm_

_(eggs, flour, peppers, peaches, onions, bananas, beans, oranges, garlic, cucumbers, carrots, bread, dish soap, sponges, trash bags, lemon juice, coffee, cereal, laundry soap, paper towels, toilet paper, milk, chicken, rice, nightlight bulbs)_

He's forgotten his physical list at home, but his memory has been good these past few days, and the trend seems to continue. He remembers what they need, and what he wrote down. At least enough that he can repeat it in his head and keep it fresh in his mind. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, catching him off-guard and causing his muscles to go tense before he recognizes what it is and pulls it out of his pocket. It's a text from his 

_(partner boyfriend no lover no partner lover partner)_

from Isaac 

_(no it's felix stick to codenames no it's isaac we're not working)_

telling him to pick up Oreos and soup. 

_(eggs, flour, peppers, peaches, onions, bananas, beans, oranges, garlic, cucumbers, carrots, bread, dish soap, sponges, trash bags, lemon juice, coffee, cereal, laundry soap, paper towels, toilet paper, milk, chicken, rice, nightlight bulbs, oreos, soup)_

He's got the produce, and he got the bread already, and he's just picked up the rice when he's distracted by a conversation a few feet away from him. The old woman beside him can't read the price on the shelves. She's not angry, even though she sounds it; her son just couldn't come with her to help her, and she doesn't have her glasses. She just needs to know which is the cheapest sauce and she can't read the numbers. The stockboy doesn't understand her, all he knows how to say in Spanish is that he doesn't speak Spanish. He's sorry. 

_"Este más barato,"_ he finally says quietly, indicating the jars of sauce above the cheapest price listing. 

The stockboy looks at him. The woman looks at him. He hears her thank him, but they're both staring at him. Did he put on concealer before leaving the house? He can't remember now. Not that it matters anyway, nothing can hide the 

_(SCAR they see your SCAR they KNOW they know they know you're BROKEN)_

He keeps his eyes down and turns, doesn't even spare the woman or the stockboy another glance as he walks away, well away from the woman and the stockboy. He considers putting the basket down and just walking out of the store. Try again later. But they need groceries so badly, and his 

_(partner partner PARTNER)_

won't be happy if he comes home empty-handed. They need groceries. They can't eat out or order in: he doesn't trust food he or Isaac doesn't make. Isaac would just tell him to get over himself, and that _he'd_ have no problem with that, but Sam needs to eat too and he just can't "get over himself," as much as he's trying. So he needs to finish. 

The store is pretty much empty aside from those that woman and the employees but that just means that he can't disappear into a crowd. Not that he could, anyway: people move away from him like they know what he is. What he's done. 

_(people can always spot a monster)_

He turns into the nearest aisle, and pulls out his phone to look down at. Just to distract himself for a minute. He doesn't power up the screen, and stares into his reflection in the dark glass, discovering that he did, in fact, remember to put on his concealer. 

_(doesn't matter everyone can still see it makeup just makes it worse)_

He decides that he's going to stop by the drugstore on the way home, and pick up more concealer. He's keeping extra in the car now. Just in case. He doesn't want to risk going out and not having it. 

He isn't sure how long he's stood there, staring at his own reflection. But after a few minutes, he hears someone nearby, and from the irritation in their voice, they've been saying "excuse me" for a few minutes. Finally, their hand appears in his line of sight, and snatches something off of the shelf while muttering about "people always on their phones." 

In response, he quickly puts his phone away, looks up, and discovers that he's in the baking needs aisle. On a whim, he decides to get cake mix. Isaac likes to bake. And he isn't expecting cake mix. It'll be a nice surprise for him. 

He stays for some time in that aisle, carefully selecting three cake mixes and placing them into the basket alongside the produce and bread. What else was he supposed to get? 

_(eggs, flour... dish soap... trash bags, lemon juice, coffee, cereal, laundry soap... toilet paper, milk... rice, nightlight bulbs... soup)_

Right. 

When it's finally safe to go back toward the other side of the store, he finishes what he recalls of his list. It's not very much, even though he knows he's forgetting things, and he can't remember if he wrote down his list on his phone. He doesn't want to check in case he zones out again. He really just wants to leave. He remembers the soup. But among the numerous things he forgets are the Oreos. 

He rushes through the self-checkout, having to go back and scan a few items a couple times when he scans them too quickly. He hastily packs up his groceries and grabs his receipt fast enough to tear it part of the way, leaving part of it hanging out of the machine. But he really doesn't care. He doesn't stop at the drugstore on his way home. Once he's parked, he sits in the far for a long few minutes, just breathing and trying to calm himself down before he goes inside. 

_(hide the crazy)_

When he finally gets home, Isaac is waiting to put groceries away. He rearranged the kitchen again and now for some reason, they're putting paper goods in a cabinet that had previously been used for their small supply of plastic containers. Isaac is hesitant to tell him where the plastic containers are now. That's a problem for later, though, he supposes. 

They put groceries away together, Isaac explaining how he's reorganized everything so he knows where everything is later. Upon discovering the lack of Oreos in the grocery bags, Isaac's demeanor changes entirely. His bright, happy attitude vanishes. He doesn't even acknowledge the cake mix or the soup, and he says he doesn't care about the Oreos. The Oreos aren't a big deal, he says. 

Sam grabs his keys anyway. He knows better than to waste his time apologizing by now. And it's his fault for forgetting in the first place anyway: it's not like Isaac gave him a whole second list to remember. It was just two things. 

He just needs to go get them, and maybe when he comes back, Isaac will be in a better mood. 


End file.
